


Padfoot's Visits

by TheMadHatterOfficial



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family Reunions, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping?, Pre-Hogwarts, Reunions, ig?, not Sirius or Harry tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:54:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22083694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMadHatterOfficial/pseuds/TheMadHatterOfficial
Summary: After nearly six years in Azkaban, Sirius Black cannot take it anymore.The last of his family waits for him in Number 4 Privet Drive. But when he sees the truth of Harry's life behind closed doors, he decides that sitting on the sidelines just won't do.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 172





	Padfoot's Visits

Harry turned seven last week.

That was the only thought in Padfoot’s head as he ducked beneath the branches near the park. Privet Drive was the epitome of white suburbanism, so it was amazing that he could even find somewhere to hide that wasn’t someone’s immaculately kept backyard or shockingly pretentious garden.

He looked so small. Padfoot could hardly see him from this far, gently swaying on the swing at five in the morning on a Sunday. No other child would be up this early. Especially not during the summer away from school. But Harry had always been an exceptional child, born to exceptional parents, so it shouldn’t be too surprising.

Though it _was_ a bit concerning. Padfoot felt the chill through his mangy coat, dirty and matted beyond hope after nearly six years in Azkaban. Even being out so long, it was impossible to trust anywhere enough to shift back into Sirius.

Sirius Black. The Bloodtraitor. The Betrayer. The one who gave his friends up to his dark lord willingly.

It was a terrible name, really. All the connotations that came with it. The past followed Sirius Black like a rotten stench that he could never scrub himself clean of.

Padfoot wanted to move closer. To sidle up next to the young boy and offer what warmth he could. His feet barely scraped the ground beneath him, and Padfoot suddenly had an image of Harry pulling himself up by the swing’s chains and pumping his legs beneath him stuck in his head. He’d give anything to see it.

They stayed there for what felt like hours. Padfoot doubted it was actually that long, but when the sky began to turn pink Harry jumped down and brushed off imaginary dirt from his jeans and trudged forward towards Number 4.

* * *

Harry turned seven last month.

Padfoot never went too close to the wards on Number 4. He wasn’t sure if it would alert the magical authorities or what, but he wasn’t going to risk these brief glimpses of his godson he was able to scavenge.

Harry was often alone. He went out early in the morning and late at night, but only ever went to the park. Sometimes other children would be there, but they never talked to Harry and Harry never talked to them.

It was disheartening to see how obviously lonely his godson was. Sometimes Harry would glance up at one of the children coming near and they would scatter. Once, even, Padfoot watched as a great big boy gathered his lot around and they began to point and laugh at Harry. Padfoot was ready to bite the damn kid, but they left before he could truly debate it.

Harry was so _lonely_.

He was so _little_.

He was a _baby_.

He was _Padfoot’s_ baby.

* * *

Harry turned seven two months ago.

Muggle school was starting soon. Padfoot heard the children grow more and more anxious, saw the backpacks and clothes and the school buses beginning their rounds.

Harry didn’t get clothes.

Three days before school began, Padfoot found Harry Potter at the edge of the little wooded area next to the park.

(More accurately, _Harry_ found _him_.)

Padfoot woke up to the feeling of a brush pulling against the sparse hair left on his back. It was accompanied by gentle, bony fingers working through the knots as efficiently as possible.

Slowly, Padfoot’s eyes cracked open. The sun was just rising, blinking lazily through the thin foliage above. It was still cold and the boy next to him was shaking like a leaf in his threadbare clothes.

“Good morning.”

 **_Merlin_ ** _he sounded like Lily._

When Harry’s fingers caught on a snaggle Padfoot made a small whining sound somewhere in his chest. Harry shushed him gently and brushed his fingers over Padfoot’s head. “I’m sorry, boy. Just trying to help.”

Padfoot let himself relax as Harry’s hands picked up a steady rhythm. Sometimes his fingers would pull, but soon after they were soothed and the feeling of fingers running through his hair without catching was worth it.

Padfoot’s eye caught on the silvery scar trailing below his godson’s hairline, cutting across his dark skin and through his eyebrow.

He dropped his gaze and didn’t look back.

“I have to do this all the time with my hair. I don’t know why it tangles so badly, but it does.”

James used to get so frustrated with his hair. Padfoot remembered how everything would get stuck in it and how it was never truly combed through. Lily and Sirius would have contests to see who could put more things in it while James slept.

“It’s better if I do it and not Aunt Petunia. She yanks through it and it always hurts.”

Lily never talked about her muggle family much. Especially not her sister. James said they didn’t have a good relationship and left it at that.

Sirius should’ve been the one to raise Harry. He wouldn’t yank through Harry’s hair.

“I’ve seen you watching,” Harry said after a stilted silence. Like he wasn’t sure if he should speak or not. “I would’ve brought food, but I don’t think Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia would have allowed me.”

Padfoot hummed low in his throat and shifted so that Harry could reach better.

“Thank you.” Harry scratched behind Padfoot’s ears before getting back to it. “I know I probably shouldn’t be taking to a stray dog. Anything stray, really. But you seemed nice and like you needed help.”

It was such a _Lily_ thing to do. James was loyal, of course, and loved his friends and family fiercely. But he’d been fairly selective about it. Sirius couldn’t remember all of the stray cats and injured owls that crossed the Potter threshold over the years. One very memorable time Lily snuck a squirrel mad with rabies into the girls’ dorm so she could care for it and try to heal it. It ended up biting one of the girls and she’d been sent to the hospital wing for days.

Their time together was over far too soon for Padfoot’s liking. When Harry finally finished, it was much later than he’d ever been out for in the mornings. He sighed and stood, stretching and catching his loose trousers before they completely fell off.

“I should go,” Harry murmured quietly.

Padfoot couldn’t help it. He whined and climbed to his feet to move closer to his godson.

Harry let out a giggle as Padfoot’s head butted into his stomach and his body pressed up against his legs.

Padfoot could feel Harry’s ribs just from that small touch. It didn’t feel right.

“‘M sorry. I’m already late as it is and Aunt Petunia will be very upset.”

Before he could protest further Harry was off. Padfoot watched as Harry trudged forward and absently pulled the dark hair from the brush and toss it on the ground.

When Harry was out of sight, Padfoot let himself collapse on the hard ground beneath his and let out a long string of pitiful cries he hadn’t let loose of in years.

Everything felt like it was caving in. It seemed as if Padfoot’s ribs began to constrict around his lungs and impede his breathing. He couldn’t bring in enough air and the feeling of it mimicked that of suffocation. Everything was moving too fast and too slow and the world was so little yet so big and Padfoot was so insignificant in it that he didn’t deserve his James or his Lily or his Moony or his baby or his _anything_.

Once upon a time, Sirius Black had everything he ever needed or wanted in life.

Now…

now he had _nothing_.

* * *

Padfoot missed his pup so terribly it hurt.

* * *

Muggle school started in two days.

Padfoot was asleep again when Harry showed up early in the morning. When he woke, Harry was laying on his side next to Padfoot on the hard ground with a twig locked into his hair.

“Good morning.”

Padfoot rolled over so that his face was just in front of Harry’s. The young boy wrinkled his nose and giggled as he did the day before, reaching out to play with Padfoot’s ear.

The first thing Padfoot noticed was how much he looked like James.

The second thing Padfoot noticed was how green Harry’s eyes were.

The third thing Padfoot noticed was the big purple bruise blooming over half of Harry’s face.

Before Harry could say anything, Padfoot knew exactly what that bruise was from. He’d seen it many times before and been on the receiving end more times than he could remember. There was a little cut in the center from where the hand must’ve had a ring on.

Padfoot’s nose nudged against it as softly as he could, whining lowly and wriggling closer.

“Oh. Yeah.” Harry ran his fingers through Padfoot’s coat before pulling the twig from his hair with a wrinkled nose. “I don’t even know how this got so stuck,” he muttered with a sharp wince.

Padfoot whimpered again and nudged at the bruise with his damp black nose.

Harry tossed the twig and dropped a hand on Padfoot’s back. “I burnt Dudley’s third helpings last night. Aunt Petunia was angry, but it was better her than Uncle Vernon.” Harry’s fingers curled tighter in Padfoot’s hair for a moment before letting go. “Last time he really went off I think he cracked a rib or two.”

And just like that, Padfoot’s heart stopped.

“It’s alright,” Harry mused absently, “it was my fault anyway.”

No, it’s not.

Padfoot wanted to scream. He wanted to howl at the top of his lungs and cry until his throat burned and just take Harry away somewhere far from here and never return.

But unfortunately, that was not in the cards for Padfoot. Not today.

And so, despite his whining and crying and desperate yanking, Harry left him once again.

* * *

Muggle school started tomorrow.

For the third time in a row, Padfoot woke to his pup cuddled up beside him.

Harry was combing through his hair and wordlessly humming a tune under his breath. It took Padfoot a few more lines before recognizing it.

_Climb in the back with your head in the clouds,_

_And you're gone_

Padfoot remembered when Lily was pregnant. He remembered how active Harry was in her stomach, turning and kicking at the worst times possible. He remembered when she would sit and cry because she couldn’t take it, and he remembered when James would kneel down and sing her favorite muggle songs to calm them both down.

Padfoot remembered nights when Harry just _wouldn’t fucking sleep_ , and he remembered hearing James in the next room singing quietly to him so that Lily wouldn’t wake up.

He remembered his Moony teaching James the lyrics. He remembered his Moony teaching _him_ the lyrics. He remembered holding Harry and stumbling through the song and his Moony coming up behind him to help adjust his grip and fill in the falls where Sirius always forgot the words.

And _Harry_ remembered.

Not the words, Padfoot didn’t think. Harry never sang them. But he brokenly followed the tune and tapped his fingers to the beat against Padfoot’s side.

_Tap, tap, tap_

Padfoot wanted to sing to him.

“They started locking the cupboard at night.”

Padfoot’s breath caught.

“Sometimes the locks open.” Harry’s voice sounded contemplative, words rising and falling slowly. “I don’t know how. But I want them to and sometimes they just _do_.”

Padfoot nodded his head and put a paw on Harry’s arm.

_Did he not know about magic?_

“I don’t think they realize that I leave in the mornings. I’m glad. Then I get to see you.”

_Oh, pup._

“I’m glad that school is starting again, even though I’ll be forced to do Dudley’s work as well as my own. But I’m in year _three_ now. I hope it’ll be better than last year. Maybe I can start learning to be a lawyer. Or a doctor. Or an _astronaut_!”

_I’m so bloody proud of you._

The rest of the day went on like this. Padfoot’s heart continued its rabbit pace as he sat, enraptured by his godson’s voice steady growing louder and more enthusiastic with every word that passed.

It was perfect. Everything was perfect. Padfoot could spend the rest of his life sitting here in their little bubble far from the dangers of war and the trauma of the past.

Padfoot hadn’t felt this free in years. Like he was taking his first breath in forever.

But soon enough, Harry began to slow his words and throw anxious looks towards the direction of the houses.

“I should probably be going.”

_Please._

Harry began to climb to his feet, wincing as he did and cradling his side gingerly. He was slightly hunched over and held his body stiffly.

Padfoot jumped to attention and whined.

“Oh, I’m alright boy.”

And that’s when Padfoot saw the blood.

There was too much of it. How did his little body hold that much blood?

Harry pulled at his shirt, and Padfoot felt like he might throw up what little food he’d been able to find the night before.

They were like candy cane stripes. A morbid analogy, but one that fit. There was strips going up Harry’s back that were red and raw, one of them curling around his side. And now, as the sun rose, it was clear that the back of Harry’s shirt was not just a bit darker than the front, but nearly soaked through with blood.

Padfoot cried as Harry pulled himself away. Desperate, whimpering cries that left him weak and pitiful as he was forced to watch his beloved child march back to Hell’s mouth with a solemn bravery that was much too out of place on a seven year old boy.

* * *

Everything was wrong.

Everything was _wrong_.

Dumbledore was supposed to _protect_ Harry. He was supposed to protect _all of them._ There should have been a plan, and Harry was supposed to be healthy and well and loved beyond comprehension. He was supposed to grow up and know that everything would be alright and his parents loved him and his uncles loved him and that he was so very precious and special and perfect and wanted.

* * *

And in the park, Padfoot _raged_.

* * *

_Fuck that noise._

* * *

Muggle school started in five hours.

Sirius Black stood before the door of Number 4 Privet Drive with his wand in hand.

Unlocking the front door was simple. Easy. The wards around the house protected Harry from anyone with harmful or malicious intentions for the young boy, letting Sirius waltz right through.

(There was nothing about the Dursleys included in that little blockade.)

The house was dark and the only sounds was the cacophonous snoring from upstairs. No one would be up for a long while yet, making it perfect for Sirius’s plan.

_Cupboard._

It was easy to find. Sirius saw the locks on the little door beneath the stairs and crept forward.

His breath caught.

He uttered a few tiny words and lit his wand.

Harry was still sleeping soundly in the nasty cot beneath a towering system of spiderwebs. His chest rose and fell and his dark hair was a right birdsnest upon his head. There was even a moment where Sirius had to remind himself that he was no longer at Hogwarts and his brother was long gone.

Sirius resolutely did not look at the Scar.

“C’mon pup,” Sirius murmured. His throat ached and his voice was rough and froggy from disuse. Sirius hardly recognized it.

Gentle as could be, Sirius ghosted his hand over Harry’s head and rubbed his thumb over a spot of dirt of his cheek. “Wake up for me.”

It only took a few moments before Harry’s eyes were shooting open and he was violently slamming his back to the wall in a fit of panic.

“No, shh!” Sirius glanced up and waiting for any indication that the boy’s relatives were awake. When there was nothing, “It’s alright, Harry. Breathe for me.”

“H…” Harry stared with wide, terrified eyes and Sirius’s heart broke. “How do you know my name?”

Sirius sighed and smiled as friendly as he could. It was difficult after spending so much time in the company of multitudes of dementors, but he thought he managed a bit. “My name’s Sirius. I was a friend of your parents’.” The corner of his mouth twitched up in a sort-of grin. “Your dad was like my brother.”

If possible, Harry’s big green eyes went impossibly larger.

“Do you want to leave here?”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

Sirius bit his lip and sighed. “Remember when you said that sometimes strange things happen? Like you can’t explain?”

“I never told you that!”

Sirius jumped and winced, pinching the bridge of his nose. “A bit quieter, please.”

“ _You’re the dog_!”

_Oh, yes. I can see James now._

“Harry, please.”

“Oh, sorry.”

Harry finally eased away from the wall with a cringe and sharp breath.

Sirius clenched his teeth and remembered the belt marks on Harry’s back.

“Do you believe in magic?” Sirius tried kindly.

“A bit.”

“Let me show you something, then.”

Harry was hesitant to allow Sirius’s ‘weird shiny stick’ near him, and voiced it quite loudly, but eventually relented and turned sideways for him.

A few muttered words and the skin slowly began to move. Harry bit his lip but stayed silent as his back began to gradually knit itself back together.

“So brave, pup.”

To say Harry was astonished was an understatement. He rolled his shoulders and touched his side, expecting the sore wounds from Vernon’s biting leather but found none.

His face lit up and Harry let out what could only be described as a squeal before throwing himself into Sirius Black’s arms.

_How he’d missed this._

“I knew it,” Harry exclaimed, finally quiet. “I knew someone would come for me.”

Sirius’s heart broke.

He squeezed tighter, nearly crushing Harry to his chest as an eruption of euphoria overtook him. It was bright and blinding, numbing his body all over and making it impossible to focus on a single other thing than the frail boy in his arms.

Sirius had the inexplicable urge to cry as he remembered a small baby reaching out from his crib and nuzzling into his hair - in the exact same way Harry was doing now.

“Of course, pup. Of course I came.”

The two stayed there, locked together on the dirty cupboard floor, for longer than they probably should have. Sirius had begun rocking them at some point and hadn’t let up his grip.

He was grateful that Harry refrained from mentioning the few escaped tears soaking the back of his shirt.

“I don’t have a lot,” Sirius murmured into the bush of messy raven hair by his ear. He pressed his nose in behind Harry’s ear and snuffled gently. “I can’t give you much.”

“Don’t care,” Harry whispered gently. His fingers had begun to play with the long locks of hair falling down Sirius’ back. Sirius melted into it and took several deep breaths to keep from having a panic attack.

“Okay, Sirius?”

Sirius choked a bit on a laugh and nodded into Harry’s shoulder. “Perfect, pup.” He brushed a hand down his back. “Just haven’t had a proper hug in a very long time.”

“Oh.” Harry seemed to try to squeeze even tighter, his arms able to reach around Sirius’ equally skinny frame. His knobbly knees dug into Sirius’ thighs painfully and his elbows were a lot pointier than they looked, but he wouldn’t change it for the world. “I can’t remember ever being hugged like this.”

Sirius wanted to hurl something at the wall.

(Or the Dursleys’ heads.)

“Well now you do.”

Finally, Sirius began to gently pull back to look at Harry. The small boy made a desperate sound in the back of his throat that broke Sirius’ heart, but he relented.

“Now, you can ask me for one any time you like.” Sirius’ smile came much more easily this time as he felt Harry’s hand hesitantly nudge towards his. Sirius reached the rest of the way and let Harry interlace their hands together tightly. “Whenever you want, Harry. And from now on, I’ll do everything I can to give you whatever you want.”

It looked like Sirius had just handed Harry a billion galleons if one went by the look on his face. His eyes were bright and wide, body positively vibrating with energy as he stared up at Sirius’ hunched form.

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

Harry bit his lip before giving a serious nod and squeezing Sirius’ hand again. It felt like he was cutting off his blood flow, but Sirius didn’t dare pull away.

“Can…” Harry sighed before seeming to pull himself together and gather his bravery. “Can I have another hug, then?”

Sirius’ eyebrows suddenly shot up before another laugh bubbled up and out of his mouth. He cut himself off before the muggles could hear and opened his arms wider.

And as Harry threw himself into Sirius’ arms once more, he couldn’t imagine another place he would ever want to be.

* * *

Leaving Privet Drive was a lot easier than one would think.

Aurors were so busy waiting for someone to come in, that they hardly noticed the little boy with a backpack leaving with his dog just a bit earlier for school than one would think.

Besides, they were usually so out of touch with muggle culture that they wouldn’t find it suspicious in the least.

Harry trooped along for nearly three whole miles until they were far enough away. From there, Sirius was able to find the little dumpster nestled behind an old Chinese food place and retrieve the bag of streetwear he’d hidden when he first made his way towards Privet Drive.

“I like the jacket.”

Harry kicked his legs back and forth from where he was perched on a fire escape, grinning around the lollipop an old store manager slipped him as they passed by.

“I’ll find you one like it,” Sirius threw back before throwing a second jacket over Harry’s shoulders. He slipped Harry’s backpack back up his arms, picked him up, and walked out towards the street. The bag only had a shirt or two and a handful of little knick knacks he’d accumulated over the years, but it helped with the look.

Sirius tried to tuck the jacket around him tighter and Harry slipped his hands under Sirius’ collar.

“Yeesh, cold fingers.”

Harry wiggled them further against Sirius’ back and pinched him gently for good measure.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“A bit.” His voice was muffled by the stick of his candy and his cheek mushed against Sirius’ shoulder.

“Mm.”

One good thing about being an escaped felon from the most illustrious prison in the wizarding world was that no one suspected him of walking through muggle foot traffic carrying a small child with a knockoff brand cartoon school bag.

Sirius still tried to keep his head down.

“What’s your house look like?”

“It’s a flat, actually.”

Sirius tried to block out all the memories that surfaced at the thought of their next destination, trying to rub more warmth into Harry’s bony arms.

“Too skinny, Harry. We’re going to fatten you up.”

“Okay. What’s your flat look like?”

“I actually grew up there. It’s super old. My parents lived there with me and my brother, but they aren’t anymore.”

“Why?”

Sirius took another breath, thinking of Regulus before shoving that down, too. “My brother left when he was young. My parents died some time ago.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be, pup.” Sirius combed a hand through his hair, trying to gently work out a few knots. “They were mean.”

There was a pause while Harry took that in and Sirius quickly jogged across the street to get to the tube station.

“Like Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon?”

Sirius’ chest rattled from where he felt the panic bubble up again. Just thinking about what Harry must’ve gone through with his time there made too many emotions roil within him to handle, so he pushed that down, as well.

(He was going to have the most insane anxiety attack later but, _well_ , that was a problem for later.)

“Yeah.” His voice was strangled and he bounced his leg, standing behind an exasperated business lady in line for tickets. “Kinda like them, pup.”

Sirius stepped up and asked for the tickets, pulling out a wad of muggle currency from the wallet he’d lifted a few days prior and begged to whatever god that he could remember how to use them.

Harry tightened his grip around Sirius’ neck and reached up to tangle his fingers in his hair.

“Thank you,” Sirius murmured before moving forward.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered again.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, making his way through towards the train as quickly as he could without making it look suspicious. “Whatever for, darling?”

“That they were mean.” Harry reached his other hand up and began to pull Sirius’ hair into sections and weave them together. Sirius thought it felt like a braid. “I wish they weren’t.”

 _He’s too sweet_ , Sirius thought mildly.

“Oh.” And was his voice supposed to sound like that? All choked up and shaky? “Thank you, Harry.”

From there, it seemed too easy to make their way to 12 Grimmauld Place. The two spent the ride huddled in a little corner of the tube, Harry pulling Sirius’ head down to press against his and putting his bag in front of their faces.

“Who are you hiding from?” Harry whispered into their little bubble.

His breath smelled bad, and faintly rotten. Sirius decided that he would check his teeth later to see if any were bad.

“Aurors.”

“What’s that?”

“Magic policy.”

Harry scrunched his nose and giggled. Sirius grinned along, even though he wasn’t quite sure what was so amusing.

“Police?”

“What did I say?”

Another giggle, a bit louder, and Sirius smiled wider before tickling Harry’s sides.

“ _Sirius_!” Harry gasped and squirmed away. He couldn’t help another squeal and Sirius dug his fingers in further and Harry threw his head back with a bright laugh.

The bag fell, but Sirius couldn’t care less. This was the first time he’d heard Harry’s laugh and he was intent on memorizing this moment for the rest of his life.

It wasn’t quite James or Lily. It was uniquely Harry, and Sirius already knew that he would never tire of it.

When Harry couldn’t breathe anymore, coughing and hiccupping pitifully, Sirius finally relented and pulled him up from where he’d fallen back on Sirius’ legs.

“Meanie.”

“Am not!” Sirius mock-gasped, darting forward and pressing a quick kiss to Harry’s head. “You just have no sense of humor.”

“Do too!”

“Do not!”

Harry stuck his tongue out and shook out his wild mane of hair in Sirius’ face.

“Aw, how cute.”

Sirius’ head snapped up at the croaky old voice and Harry jumped forward into his arms.

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare the little one.”

The old woman a few seats forward was smiled gently at them and Sirius dragged up a little smile to throw her way. “He’s a bit shy ‘round people, but thank you.”

“I have some sweets,” she sang gently, obviously trying to get Harry’s attention. “If it’s alright with dad.”

Harry’s head slowly pulled away as he peeked one big green eye out towards her.

With Harry’s lollipop gone already, he was eager to reach out a hand and wiggle his fingers like he did against Sirius’ back earlier.

“You’re going to give me hell on that sugar high later, aren’t you pup?”

“Nu uh!” Harry jumped up and shook his head. “I’ll be good, I’ll be _so_ good!”

The old woman grinned wider and reached into her obnoxiously bright yellow bag as Sirius smoothed down Harry’s jacket. His face was alight with excitement, but Sirius could see an undercurrent of fear there. He had no reservations that he was wearing a mask, even as young as he was. But in situations like Harry’d been in, one learned quickly.

Harry was testing him, and Sirius would be damned if he failed.

“Go on, you little heathen.”

The lady offered the wrapped sweets, but Harry didn’t get up. He held Sirius’ hand and leaned back until his back was flat on Sirius’ thighs and Sirius was holding him by his waist. He took the treats from the lady’s hand and gave a toothy, upside down grin. “Thank you!”

“And so polite, too.”

After, Harry was happy to chat with the lady, refusing to leave Sirius’ lap the entire time. It made Sirius indescribably happy to have Harry trust him so quickly, so completely. He knew that there would be a lot to work through, all the traumas Harry endured in that house and habits he’d need to unlearn and a whole host of health issues to be tackled. But in this moment, everything was perfect.

It felt rather like Harry had imprinted on him. Like a baby duckling.

Eventually, when the lady left, Harry picked his bag up and pressed closer into Sirius’ chest once more.

“Will we be there soon?”

“Soon,” Sirius agreed and poked Harry’s cheek where it bulged from where his candy was. Harry scrunched his nose and Sirius pinched it between his knuckles playfully.

“Can you teach me magic?”

Sirius hummed and tried to brush Harry’s bangs into something a bit more tidy. His eyes avoided the Scar as he tried to cover as much of it as possible.

If Sirius’ face doesn’t give them away, that will.

“There’s a school,” Sirius said instead, pulling the backpack up again and blocking their faces. “All witches or wizards go to school at age eleven. You’ll start learning there.”

“That’s so _long_ , though.”

Sirius chuckled and shook his head fondly. “It’ll come, eventually.”

Everything about Harry was precious to Sirius. From his inquisitive green eyes to his shy giggles and his constantly flitting hands that seemed to always gravitate towards Sirius’ hair.

Sirius wanted to know more. He needed to know anything and everything he’d missed out on in Harry’s life. He’d already been gone for so long and it felt like he’d never be able to make it up.

“I’m sorry for not being there for you, Harry.”

Harry cast Sirius a strange look before gently headbutting his cheek. It was reminiscent of the way Padfoot had done in the park the past few days and Sirius was oddly endeared by the gesture.

“Doesn’t matter,” Harry answered eventually. There was a little lisp from the sweets in his cheek. He traced his hands over Sirius’ cheek and pulled at the corners of his mouth in a mockery of a smile. “You’re here now.”

Sirius grinned as Harry mushed at his cheeks and nudged his nose against Harry’s fondly. “I’m here, pup. Not leaving any time soon.”

“Good. You’re _stuck_ with me.”

With a final, booming laugh, Sirius tucked Harry back into his chest and began to rock them again. Harry pushed his face into Sirius’ neck and sighed contentedly.

“Couldn’t be happier about it, darling.”


End file.
